


Not-Problem Solved

by tomanonuniverse



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Archery, Bandits & Outlaws, Black Markets, Canon-Typical Violence, Coping, Don't copy to another site, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Kidnapping, M/M, Mild Blood, Minor Violence, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Protectiveness, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Strangulation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25135888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomanonuniverse/pseuds/tomanonuniverse
Summary: Ah, so that's what they planned to do with him. Sell his "fresh witcher organs" on the black market. He can't imagine many people would buy, not even the craziest of alchemists, seeing as eventually the word would reach the rest of the world's remaining witchers who would then come bounding over onto the buyer's head. Still, he can't blame them for trying. Witcher organs are good deals.He wonders if Jaskier's noticed he's gone yet.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 292





	Not-Problem Solved

**Author's Note:**

> jaskier is an archer and you can fight me to the death about it. he also runs the "let's joke about our trauma" club with me come sign up we have fillingless pie

Geralt saw this coming, and he let it happen anyway. In his defense, he didn’t think those bandits would be foolish enough to try anything, not after the clear threat they were given not to pursue whatever it is they planned. Though, the threat came from Jaskier, so he really should have known better.

They’re at the tavern when they first spot them. Jaskier is playing his lute and performing for the crowd, who all jeer and sing along with drunken enthusiasm, celebrating the death of the graveirs haunting their cemetery. All except for the select group of men sitting at the opposing corner to Geralt’s and glaring daggers at him.

When Jaskier is finished for the night, Geralt expects him to walk towards him and do the usual thing of bothering him until they go to bed. Except he doesn’t and he struts right up to the five very armed and dangerous bandits, giving them a wide grin, all pearly teeth and no actual smile in his expression.

Geralt thinks he’s right out of his fucking  _ mind  _ and so quickly downs his ale and bolts out of is seat towards them, ready to jump inbetween the bard and the lunatics if they even moved an inch. But they simply level the songbird with unimpressed looks, right up until he puts his hands on his hips and very pointedly asks them:  _ “Gentlemen, are we going to have a problem?” _

One of them, the one Geralt assumes was in charge of the rest, bursts out into amused laughter and reaches over to pat Jaskier on the shoulder. The witcher growls in warning and the other’s hand hovers instead, then he snorts and wisely retracts it to his side.  _ “No,”  _ he answers with a huff,  _ “no we won’t be.” _

_ “Good,”  _ Jaskier says, taking Geralt’s hand and very deliberately lacing their fingers in front of not just the bandits, but  _ everyone  _ at the tavern, then dragging them up to the room they earned that night.  _ “Sorry not sorry, darling, I didn’t like how they looked at you and went to give them a piece of my mind. Then I didn’t like how they looked at me either so I held your hand. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable?” _

Geralt had responded humming and not-so-subtly taking his hand back to himself, refusing to make eye contact. Now, however, with his hands tied together behind his back as he was wheeled off on a stolen wagon to wherever, he wishes they’d done more than sleep afterwards. Perhaps they would have noticed the fact that Geralt’s drink had been drugged if he’d passed out halfway through being lectured about how bad at expressing himself he was. 

“Oi, Rudy, quit pokin' it,” one of the men from earlier says, explaining the annoying and constant pricking that stabbed at Geralt’s thigh every two seconds. “You’re gonna wake it if you keep doin’ that.”

Geralt groans and warily opens his eyes. Just as he thought, they were on a wagon he knew belonged to the town merchant, going down an alternate road in the forest. His vision is swimming and he’s exhausted, but he still musters his wits about him enough to straighten his back slightly, hiding his hands better as he started working on unbinding himself.

“You couldn’t have told him that earlier?” He growls, which startles Rudy into throwing the stick in his hand at his face. He simply blinks at him, watching his boss burst into unkind mocking laughter at the action. There were two other men walking near the wagon, also chuckling along at their youngest's antics, while one led the wagon with an also stolen horse at the front. It was definitely the five men from earlier. 

Rudy looks at his thieving companions with a frown, blood rushing to his face in humiliation. “Yea, yea, laugh it up,” he murmurs to himself, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “Why'd we take this one alive anyway? I know fresh witcher organs are good deals but couldn't we have just poisoned him at the inn and taken a body instead?” 

Ah, so that's what they planned to do with him. Sell his "fresh witcher organs" on the black market. He can't imagine many people would buy, not even the craziest of alchemists, seeing as eventually the word would reach the rest of the world's remaining witchers who would then come bounding over onto the buyer's head. Still, he can't blame them for trying. Witcher organs are good deals. 

He wonders if Jaskier's noticed he's gone yet. 

The boss's ugly mug starts explaining to the boy for what seems to be the millionth time by the annoyed tone in his voice. Unsurprisingly, the younger thief doesn't seem to be listening and is instead going through one of the many bags of stolen goods surrounding them. Suddenly, he curses. 

“Shit, stop the wagon!” 

The man at the reins does so, turning to the group in confusion. The boss gives Rudy a snarl that demands an explanation before the four men decide to gut him and sell his organs alongside the witcher's. He sheepishly looks around at their furious faces and clears his throat. “I… I think I forgot my bow at the inn.” 

Geralt blinks at the cacophony of groans that sounds almost immediately. “Rudy, not  _ again,”  _ one of them whines. “We ain't goin' back all this way to get your measly ass bow. Just steal another from the next town.” 

“But that's my  _ bow!”  _ Rudy exclaims, not sounding too much unlike a child throwing a tantrum. 

The man at the helm of the wagon huffs. “If it was so important t'you, you wouldn' be forgettin' it at every—” 

Geralt would have missed it were it not for his enhanced mutant hearing. The sound only lasts a second, a sharp whizz in the otherwise silent forest before a horrible and familiar squelch reaches his ears. The horrified look on the four men in front of him's faces make him turn around and see what it was scaring them so much. 

There's an arrow sticking out of the fifth man's eye. He emits a pathetic whimper, fitting last words if you ask Geralt, and promptly falls over and onto the ground underneath them with a lifeless thud. Rudy yells in terror and scurries back away from the body, right into his boss. 

They're all too busy shouting at each other to hear the sound Geralt can now identify as the flying of a knocked back arrow happening again. One of the two men off the wagon shouts as an arrow pierces his chest and shoots directly into his heart, a clean and well-aimed shot. As he falls to the ground, he hears the boss shout  _ “it's in the trees!" _ and huddle with his three remaining companions, leaving Geralt in open fire. 

Though the witcher isn't too worried about that. Whoever the archer was, they weren't here to kill him. They were obviously taking out the bandits so they could take off with their newest capture, most likely to sell Geralt's expensive witcher organs and take the coin for themselves. 

Rudy's trembling is just as annoyingly loud as the boss's growling. The third man shakes his head, uselessly holding out a blade to nothing. “Boss, this witcher ain't worth our fuckin' lives. They want it, they can have it. We need to get the hell outta here!” The boss opens his mouth to object, but he's not the one who winds up speaking. 

_ “You're not going anywhere,”  _ a very familiar voice reprimands from  _ above  _ them, then suddenly there's an entire person dropping on top of the man who spoke. They roll off of him quickly and get on their feet just in time to draw back another arrow and release it into Rudy's face. It pierces right above his chin and goes through the back of his head, effectively killing him on the spot. 

It's only then does Geralt get a good look at his savior. His eyes widen and his blood runs cold as Jaskier shoots him the same happy and charming smile he adorns whenever he sees Geralt, as though he hadn't just killed three men a moment ago. 

“Jaskier,” he whispers in disbelief. Though the bard seems to take it as a warning of the boss who was currently charging at him. He clumsily ducks out of the way in the nick of time and and there's a snap that doesn't sound like bone as the man tackles Jaskier's bow instead and faceplants into the ground behind him, making Jaskier stand and dust his clothes with a series of amused snickers. 

_ “Jaskier,”  _ Geralt calls out again, this time more urgent, an  _ actual  _ warning, and of fucking course Jaskier just looks at him and winks, not understanding. The other man had recovered from having a troubadour drop down on him from the heavens and now wielded his blade properly. The witcher's heart seizes in his chest as the man runs at the bard.  _ “Jaskier!”  _

The swing is wild and unpracticed, but it gets the job done. Jaskier had grabbed another arrow, but instead of pulling it back on the bow as it was broken on the ground, he simply slashes behind him at the incoming threat. It takes a clean cut right across the man's throat and he drops his blade immediately in favor of uselessly clawing at his open neck. 

Jaskier flinches at the gurgles the man makes as he sinks to his knees and dies before them. He drags his hand down his face and then jumps as he hears a groan from behind him. “Oh no you don't,” the bardling says, grabbing the broken bow from the ground and stalking towards the bandit before he fully recovers. 

Geralt watches with wide eyes as his friend wraps the bowstring around the thief's neck and  _ pulls.  _ He pulls and pulls and keeps pulling until the bandit stops struggling in his arms and falls completely silent. Then he shoves the body off of himself and huffs, clapping his hands against each other as he eyes the corpses like they were a job well done. 

He touches a hand to his face and scowls at the substance that comes off on his fingers. “Ew,” Jaskier says. “Degenerate bandit blood.” 

And while Geralt was never good with words, he  _ really  _ has nothing to say in response. “I suppose he was right in saying they wouldn't be a problem,” Jaskier hums, yanking an arrow out of one of the bodies. The bard doesn't seem to mind Geralt's silence as he practically skips over to him with the arrow to use it to cut the remaining ties around the witcher's wrist. 

“Jaskier—”

“I'm so sorry for not acting sooner,” he babbles, helping the still slightly drugged Geralt to his feet, seemingly unaware of the look the witcher is giving him. “I'm a little out of practice and I couldn't get a clear shot from the trees while the wagon was moving so much. I was wondering when they'd notice I stole the bow— good thing that came out in our favor, huh? Luckiest timing ever!” 

“Jaskier…”

“And I  _ know  _ what you're thinking:  _ “My dearest and bestest friend in the whole wide world, however do you know how to use a bow and arrow and why did you not inform me of it?”  _ I hear you ask! Not in so many words, of course. Well, you see, I know you don't really believe that I was a viscount before I was a bard but I really was! And back then I used to practice a lot of archery and—” 

_ “Jaskier!”  _

Finally,  _ finally,  _ the bard falls quiet. Geralt takes his hands and holds them tightly for a moment as he looks deep into his partner's eyes and asks: “Are you okay?” 

Jaskier blinks. “Am  _ I  _ okay?” He parrots in shock. “Geralt, you're the one who was drugged and kidnapped! And while it's so very sweet of you to worry about me, I thought I made it  _ terribly  _ clear that I could take care of things,” he explains, gesturing to the bodies around them. When he looks back at Geralt, he suddenly stiffens, and the witcher holds his hands tighter. 

This was it. The moment he'll realize just what it was he'd just done. Geralt held his breath and made sure to be prepared for whatever comes next, whether it be tears or anger or vomit. He knows this, had seen it happen a million times before and even went through it himself, once upon a time. He knows what to expect. 

Except none of those things come, because Jaskier is  _ smiling  _ at him. “Oh, my sweetest, darling witcher,” he says, settling his hands on Geralt's shoulders. “You really think this is the first time I've killed a man?” 

_ What?  _

The witcher might have said the word out loud because Jaskier is laughing and tapping his cheek gently. “You truly don't listen to a word I say, do you?” He asks playfully, though there's an underline of  _ something  _ in his voice that Geralt doesn't like. “Like I said, when I was still important nobility, there were many attempts at my life and the people around me's lives. I've fended off thieves, assassins, rapists, bandits—” 

“Assassins?” Geralt echoes in horror.  _ “Rapists?”  _

“Ah,  _ attempted _ rapists, crucial distinction,” Jaskier corrects, completely unbothered by what he was admitting. “I was never good with a dagger or in a fight, but I  _ am _ quite good with poisons and arrows! Don't worry, my dear, I have been subjected to many of life's horrors, but not  _ that.  _ Not yet, anyway!” 

Not  _ yet?  _ What—

Geralt cradles Jaskier's face in his hands, ignoring the gasp the other lets out at the action. “Jaskier,  _ stop,” _ he tells him sternly, though it sounds a lot like he was pleading with him to his ears. “Just… Slow down. Slow down for a second. Take a moment to fucking breathe, will you?” 

As if the words were magic, the bard's entire form melts and turns in putty in his hands. Suddenly his shoulders that were pulled taught sag in exhaustion and his features fall, eyes betraying the true feelings behind their owner's facade. Jaskier was a good actor, a good performer, but Geralt could always see right through him. 

He staggers forward for a moment but catches himself before he could reach the witcher. Geralt frowns and pulls him to his chest, wincing at the second gasp Jaskier emits at the slightest forms of affection from the witcher. He holds him to himself and thinks of how he has to do better to let Jaskier know he cares for him. Jaskier shifts slightly, setting his forehead onto Geralt's collarbone and sighing. 

His hands fidget with the fabric of Geralt’s shirt as he speaks. “Making light of it helps me deal with it better,” he confesses, sounding almost ashamed of himself for it. “It's not the most…  _ healthy  _ way to cope, but it… works, in a way. With my personality. Or something. I don't really know.”

Geralt runs a hand through the bard's soft brown locks and purses his lips. He's pretty sure he should be saying something comforting right about now, maybe bestowing some wisdom on the other, seeing as he's lived for almost a century now and has killed plenty of men. Yet he can't manage a single proper sentence, so he holds the other close and hums like he always does. 

It seems to be the right thing to do because Jaskier laughs, the sound bringing some peace to the witcher. “Yes, you're right,” he says, like Geralt had actually spoken words at all. “There's no use dwelling on the past, is there? Come on, our things are still back at the inn. I'm sure we can catch a few hours of sleep before we need to get moving.”

The bard moves and begins to pull away from the witcher, but something isn't sitting right with Geralt. He feels like there's something gone unaddressed, something  _ urgent,  _ that he can't quite place. “Jaskier,” he says, wrapping a hand around one of the troubadour's wrists to stop him from going too far ahead alone. 

The other turns to him with a confused tilt of his head. Geralt inhales sharply, then speaks. “No one will ever harm you, or  _ attempt  _ to harm you, ever again,” he tells him, watching his eyes widen at the bold words. “So long as I'm alive, Jaskier, nothing of what you mentioned will ever befall you. Not on my watch.”

For a long, long moment, Jaskier just stares. He stares at Geralt with his eyes wide and jaw agape, long enough that the witcher begins to wonder if he'd said something wrong and worry. Then he's suddenly laughing, taking his hand back to himself only to settle it on his middle as he howls in laughter. 

Geralt's brows furrow and he frowns. Why was Jaskier laughing at what he'd said? Does he not believe him? Does he not believe that he can keep him safe? Or is it that he doesn't believe that he  _ wants  _ to in the first place? The thought is horrible— does the other truly not know how much he means to him? 

Jaskier finally stands upright and wipes a tear from his eye. “I-I'm sorry,” he stammers, still hiccuping soft chuckles. “It's just that— that's so  _ fitting.  _ I just killed five men for you and you're still worried about me needing your protection.”

Geralt freezes. 

_ There  _ it was, the thing that didn't sit right with the witcher, the one that desperately needed to be addressed. It wasn't the need to make it obvious he cares for Jaskier. It was  _ this.  _ This little fact that threw the witcher for a loop. That  _ Jaskier _ cares for  _ him.  _

He's vaguely aware that Jaskier's rambling again  _ (“I mean, you know, you're not wrong, I do still need you, but—”),  _ but he isn't listening in the slightest. He'd feel guilty, especially considering the bard's earlier comment, but he can't find it in himself to busy his head with that guilt. He's still looking at the bodies. 

“You…” He suddenly starts, interrupting the other and silencing him. “You  _ killed  _ for me.”

Jaskier blinks, a certain tension rising to his shoulders at the words. “...Yes, I did,” he confirms slowly, almost hesitantly. Geralt turns his head back and looks at him, making him suck in a sharp breath at the look in the witcher’s eyes. “I know you are more than capable of defending yourself, Geralt, don’t get me wrong, but I would do it again if it ever came to.”

Something akin to pain crosses Geralt’s features.  _ “Why?” _

And Jaskier stares at him in utmost disbelief. “After all this time, Geralt,” he says, “do you really not know?”

Geralt swallows, because he  _ does.  _ He  _ does  _ know why, he just… It just  _ can’t be.  _

But the display of corpses around them says otherwise, so the witcher finally relents and tentatively reaches for Jaskier’s cheek with his hand. The bard absolutely  _ lights up  _ at the action and Geralt swallows again. He looks into his oceans of blue for all of a second before he brings their lips together, if only to have an excuse to close his eyes lest he blind himself looking at the sun for too long.

Jaskier’s smiling in the kiss and it’s too contagious for Geralt to resist. The bard wraps his arms around the witcher’s shoulders and presses a chaster kiss to his lips as he pulls away. “Let’s go, Geralt. Together.” He murmurs, pressing their foreheads against one another. The White Wolf only nods, this time lacing their hands together first as he lets himself be led away from the mess behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> i honestly didnt know how to end this i hope this mediocre ending suffices LMAO


End file.
